


Late

by orphan_account



Series: Pretty [2]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeler and Abel stay back late at the lab. Hair-flipping and dirty-talk ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arynbatoost](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=arynbatoost).



> I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you had in mind, Aryn! I hope you like it anyway. <3

"Hello, Abel!"

Abel jumped as Keeler plopped down in the chair opposite him, slamming a can of lime soda down in front of Abel and tossing a chocolate bar onto his lap. Abel looked down at it and back up at Keeler, already flushed hot just being this close to him. "H-Hello, sir," he politely returned, tentatively wrapping his fingers round the cold can of soda while Keeler sipped at his own. 

"Goodness, Abel, you look exhausted," Keeler observed with a frown, leaning back in his chair and lazily swiveling side to side. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Oh! I-I got a decent night's sleep last night, Sir," Abel lied, pushing his chair away from the computer and cracking open his soda can. It fizzed all over his hand and he sucked at his knuckles, blushing and avoiding Keeler's eyes, sure his superior wouldn't be impressed by the obvious lie he'd told.

Abel didn't know what else to say to him. Keeler was careful about pushing his navigators too hard, aware a tired mind lead to mediocre work, but Abel _needed_ to keep working: the new engine config was close to finished, and with the war drawing closer they no longer had the time to worry about themselves. Abel hoped Keeler wouldn't order him back to his room just yet -- Cain was always in a foul mood after Tuesday training and often liked to remedy it with sex that left Abel mindless and sore. Besides, if he left now he'd be behind schedule again, and the Commander was relying on Abel to make this happen. 

"You should eat that chocolate, Abel," Keeler said after a while, and Abel glanced up at him meekly. The look on Keeler's face told Abel it wasn't a suggestion. "Yes, Sir," Abel said, and tried not to sound too glum. He'd much preferred it back when Keeler hadn't noticed him.

Abel did as he was ordered and broke off a small piece of chocolate, chewing slowly while Keeler watched. Keeler's hair was loose tonight, falling in a shining curtain over one side of his face. He flipped it over his shoulder like it was an annoyance, sipped primly at his soda and tapped fingers against his thigh. Abel stared at him and felt helpless -- Keeler was so effortlessly lovely that it never failed to distract him from a task, and that _hair_ of his... Abel had always longed to touch it, just once to know what it felt like between his fingers, though he doubted Keeler would be very impressed if Abel tried it, and Cain would only accuse him of being slutty and wanting Keeler's cock.

It wasn't like Cain could talk, though.

Cain was always suspiciously interested in anything Abel said involving Keeler, and was frequently wont to stare at him in the mess until Abel caught him out and told him to stop. If Abel didn't know better he'd assume Cain had a secret little crush on the ship's lead navigator, but Cain didn't do crushes -- for Cain, the world was simpler than that; divided into people you wanted to fuck and people you didn't. Abel smiled to himself at the very idea of it though, equal parts jealous and amused, until Keeler said, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Sir," Abel said quickly, instantly regretting letting his thoughts run away from him.

"Oh come on, Abel, what's got you smiling like that?" Keeler pressed, a slow smile curving his lips.

"Really, it-it's nothing," Abel stammered, trembling now. "I-I was just thinking about my fighter, Sir."

Keeler raised a pale brow at him. "Oh? Well do share, Abel, I'd like to hear more about him. Cain, isn't it? He's got quite the reputation, that one. I do worry about you sometimes."

Abel blinked. "You do, Sir?"

Keeler didn't say anything, just let his eyes fall to Abel's neck. Abel blushed furiously, at once humiliated, his hand flying to his throat on instinct. He tried to pull up his collar even though it was clearly too late -- Keeler had already seen the bruises on him. Cain liked to mark Abel, suck and bite at his neck and throat while they were fucking, even when Abel had repeatedly warned him not to for precisely this reason. There was never any point trying to set ground rules with Cain, though. They both lost themselves when they were having sex, and Abel knew he was just as guilty of it as Cain was. 

"There's no need to be worried, Sir," Abel forced out after an awkward silence.

"No?"

Abel shook his head. "My fighter's good to me, Sir. He'd never hurt me." Abel was surprised by how confident his own voice sounded. 

"I'm glad to hear it," Keeler replied, leaning his head back against the chair and slowly swiveling again as he regarded Abel. "I do hope he knows his place at least," he went on, face hard now, and Abel nervously swallowed. 

"His place, Sir?"

"I mean that I hope you don't give him have any element of power over you. You're his navigator, Abel," Keeler further explained, sitting up straight and tilting his chin. "Cain's nothing but a fighter. He can be replaced as easily as a dead pet. You should remind him of that if he starts getting out of line."

"I will, Sir," Abel quickly agreed, though he was more than a little disturbed by Keeler's attitude. Cain wasn't replaceable to Abel. And he was more than just a fighter. "D-Does your fighter ever get out of line?" Abel inquired, and immediately panicked that he'd gone too far. 

But Keeler just smiled at him, twisting the ends of his hair round his fingers now, and said, "Frequently. But Encke... Encke isn't like the rest of them, Abel. He's actually got a brain inside his head for a start -- I can have an intelligent conversation with him -- and he knows how to be civil." Keeler looked distant now, eyes glazed over. "You'd think he was a brute just looking at him," he went on, "but he's really very gentle with me. I suppose I just got lucky, though. Most of them are little better than if they'd been raised by wolves."

Keeler snapped his penetrating gaze back to Abel. He inched his chair closer, a foreboding little smirk on his lips, and rested a hand on the side of Abel's chair. "But enough about me," he said in a low voice, leaning over Abel now and talking in his ear. "What about your fighter, hm? Is he gentle with you? Or is he rough?"

Abel shivered. "I-I don't know what you mean, Sir," he stuttered. He sipped at his soda, mouth too dry to swallow. Keeler was so close now Abel could smell him, couldn't think clearly if he tried, and he couldn't discern now if Keeler was genuinely coming onto him or if this was some sort of test. He wasn't sure which option he was hoping for most.

"Hmm." Keeler brushed Abel's hair back behind his ear and murmured, "You're sweet as pie here at the lab, but I'll bet you're different in bed. Do you like it rough, Abel? Bent over on all fours while your fighter fucks that tight little ass? Mm, you're such a pretty boy; I'll bet you drive him wild..." He skimmed a hand up over Abel's arm, breathing heavily into Abel's ear, and Abel spluttered and choked -- literally choked -- on a mouthful of soda he'd somehow forgotten to swallow.

Keeler chuckled and drew his chair back, the sweet scent of his shampoo lingering around Abel like a cloud, and swung his legs up on the footrest. "Oh, Abel, you're too easy to tease, and so _serious_. I'm sorry, I probably should have warned you that I have a very... unique sense of humor. I'd like for us to be friends, but I'm not sure you can handle it."

It wasn't Keeler's sense of humor he couldn't handle, Abel thought but didn't say. Keeler had left him so flustered with just a few dirty words and a brush of fingers against his ear that all he wanted right now was Keeler's pretty mouth on him, his hands and his naked skin. Maybe Cain was right and Abel was a slut, but Abel would challenge Cain to have Keeler sitting almost on his lap, soft lips against his ear, and see if he could resist. 

"I'll try my best, Sir. I'd like for us to be friends too," Abel said finally, taking a few calming breaths and trying to get a hold of himself again. 

Keeler's smile slowly faded until his face was serious once more. "I want you out of here in ten minutes, Abel. Eat something. Go to bed. Get some sleep. I don't want to see you back here until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, and only after you've had breakfast. Do you understand me?"

"But Sir--"

"Don't argue with me or I'll have you reassigned."

Abel promptly shut his mouth. "Yes, Sir."

Keeler got up and put a hand on Abel's shoulder, looking down on him with obvious amusement. "And do remember I said get some _sleep_ , Abel. I don't want your fighter keeping you up all night. You tell him to take it easy on you tonight; we've a long day ahead of us tomorrow." He brushed the back of his hand across Abel's cheek, pushed Abel's hair back again, and left. 

Abel stared at Keeler's empty seat, stunned and trying to catch his breath, until his ten minutes were up. 


End file.
